Generation X: Dark Intrusion
by Mike N
Summary: After their tense battle with the Hellions, Generation X sets off to England accompanied by Wolverine and Nightcrawler. Meanwhile, the others are getting closer to finding the Ebon Knight and Rich's lost grandfather.
1. Chapter 1

I.

"Scott Summers is a jerk!"

Paige Guthrie spun on her heel and pointed at Jubilee as if Jubilee was actually Scott Summers. Her sky blue eyes shone with defiance and her blond hair fell about her face, which only made her appear look that much more disheveled and upset.

Despite Paige's outburst, Jubilation Lee, simply called Jubilee by everyone she knew, responded by nonchalantly turning another page in a fashion magazine, complete with underweight, rail-thin women wearing clashing colors and tacky designs only because of the name attached to them. She blew a semi-large pink bubble, sucked it back in, and continued chewing.

A light summer breeze fluttering through the thin drapes did nothing to cool Paige's anger. The chirping birds and playful laughter fell on deaf ears as Paige looked to Jubilee to say something that would make her feel better.

"Hayseed, you are like so trippin' right now," she finally replied without looking up from her magazine.

Paige felt her anger rise again, but knew that she wasn't really mad at Jubilee. "Are you saying I don't have a right to be upset? You at least got to go to L.A. I've been stuck here doing nothing. I'm supposed to be an X-Man!" Her country accent always became more noticeable when she was angry and this time was no exception.

Jubilee flipped another page. "Paige, it's not like you're the only one stuck in X-Limbo here. I mean, I'm not like assigned to a team either. I've just been sitting in on some of Hank's totally boring classes. Besides, like nothing really good happened in L.A."

Jubilee didn't want to elaborate on the situation that had arisen while she was in L.A. She was just glad to be back at the Xavier School for Higher Learning.

Paige thrust her fists down at her sides. "You don't understand."

"Like, enlighten me, oh husky one," Jubilee rolled her eyes and reeled disgustedly at the sight of a bright orange, sleeveless shirt, with dirty green stripes combined with muddy brown capris and pink flip-flops.

Paige sighed, her anger rushing away with a deep breath. "Everything's changed. The X-Men aren't the same. It's not like when we were with Generation X."

Jubilee slammed the magazine closed. "We're not going to be like that ever, Paige. Everett and Angelo are gone. Sean's lying in some hospital and will probably never talk again. Jono's off playing rogue X-Man with issues of his own. Professor Xavier left us. Jean Grey is dead. Ol' Frosty's running the show like she's the White Queen again. Most of us didn't even get the chance to stay here. And on top of that, people hate us more than ever. Did you really like expect everything to be the same?"

Paige felt her cheeks redden not with anger, but with grief and regret. "I shouldn't have come here. After the whole thing with Mr. Cassidy and the X-Corps, I should've gone home."

Jubilee's angry expression softened a bit. "I—I'm sorry. It's just been like hard, you know? Things are changing and they don't seem to be in our favor." Jubilee paused then changed the subject, "How are you and Warren doing?"

Paige turned away. "I'd rather not talk about that."

"That bad, huh?"

Paige stuck her thumbs in her jean shorts pockets, reflecting on the sudden relationship that had developed between her and Warren. It wasn't that she didn't care for him, but she felt that he may be uncomfortable with it, especially with the age difference between them. When Scott opted to send Warren to Genosha, it seemed to only worsen the situation. Secretly, Paige was glad for the break, hoping that maybe when he returned, things would somehow be okay again.

She sighed again then said, "I'm going to the Danger Room. I think I just need to let off some steam."

Jubilee stopped for a second, and put her magazine to the side. She flung her legs over the side of the bed and replied. "I'll go with you. I think I need to cut loose on some old school baddies too."

Jubilee and Paige quickly changed into their old Generation X uniforms, snug red and yellow outfits, each with a unique twist for the individual students. Jubilee donned her yellow trench coat. Paige had no individual flair for her uniform, but her ability to shed her skin, uniform included, added enough individuality for Paige.

They made their way to the express elevators that lead directly to the basement, where the Danger Room was located. Jubilee and Paige smiled at a few students that they knew, but most of them were strangers. Many of the students passed without a second glance, rushing to get to class or their own individual training sessions.

Both Paige and Jubilee stopped when they saw the headmistress of the Xavier Institute sauntering toward them.

"Jubilee, Paige, what, may I ask, are you two doing?" Emma's disapproving eyes scrutinized every inch of their uniforms then retuned to bore into their eyes.

Paige frowned. "We were going to the Danger Room, if that was okay with you, Ms. Frost." Her voice was as icy and cold as she could possibly get it.

"Well, it's not. Unless you have a specific training program that you are a part of, you are not permitted to use the Danger Room. Besides, I don't see any one with you who would supervise the session."

Paige's mouth almost fell open, "I can't believe you."

"Look, Frosty. Just because you stepped up your game and became headmistress doesn't mean you can treat us like children," Jubilee shot.

Emma crossed her arms and fell into a condescending expression. "Dear Jubilee, it seems that anytime someone establishes rules that _you_ have to follow, they're treating you like a child. Well, I have news for you. I _am_ headmistress of this school. And since the both of you are staying here, you will abide by any rules that are set forth. People much older than the both of you follow them, so there's no reason that either of you should feel like you're above the law."

"We were your students, Ms. Frost. Why are you acting like—" Paige trailed off.

"A bitch?" Emma finished. "Because I can," Emma gave one last disapproving glance toward Paige and Jubilee before walking off without any further explanation.

Paige and Jubilee watched Emma sashay down the hallway and disappear around a corner without another glance toward them.

"My apologies and regret for the situation that just transpired," Hank McCoy stepped from around a corner. Though he smiled, behind his pronounced brow was an expression of disapproval mixed with worry.

Jubilee gave a half-smile. "Were you eavesdropping?"

Hank shook his head, "Why, Jubilee, I am appalled and astonished that such grave accusations are being cast my way." He smiled, though it was only slightly noticeable with his new cat-like features. "I would like to extend the offer to be your supervisor for your Danger Room session if you would have me."

"Thanks, Hank," Jubilee smiled fully. She realized Hank was simply trying to smooth things over.

"What does she have against us?" Paige glanced back toward the corner Emma disappeared around.

"Do not presume it is you she has the difficulty with. Emma is simply trying to establish her role as head mistress."

"Sounds like you're making excuses for her," Paige replied as they entered the express elevator. Jubilee pushed the button to take them to B1, where the Danger Room was located.

"Bad excuses," Jubilee added.

"I never professed to be good at it," Hank replied.

They passed only a few more students then found themselves in the Danger Room. It was the same as Jubilee remembered from her days as an X-Man. Normally a plain room with metal walls, floor, and ceiling, there seemed to be nothing particularly special about the gymnasium sized room. However, once a program was entered, the room would transform into any environment complete with varied terrain, weather, and even simulated wildlife. It became a world of its own, and today, Jubilee and Paige were ready for it to be a war-zone.

"I'll monitor the session through the control room," Hank said. He padded off to another set of sliding doors then was gone.

"Any particular program you want to run?" Jubilee asked.

Paige winked, "Hank, load program 18753. Danger level—medium."

Hank gave a furry thumbs up as he punched in the request. Only a few seconds later, the background changed and they found themselves inside of a lavish lobby area. The polished tile floors gave a double image of the large marble statues, glass doors, gold fixtures, and lavish oak desks that populated the area.

"Arminthorpe Corporation, huh?" Jubilee grinned. She distinctly remembered the corporation that threatened their team time and time again not so long ago. Despite the trying times, Jubilee wished she was back there with her Generation X teammates. She positioned herself in an offensive fighting stance, her hands already flashing with power.

Paige smiled back and touched her face. With a violent rip, her skin separated from her body, revealing a metallic version of her body.

"You know, that still grosses me out, Hayseed."

Armed soldiers suddenly appeared from the elevators, offices, hallways, windows, repelling off the balcony, and entering the area through any means possible to reach their target.

"That's why I do it, Jubilee. Now, let's teach these guys a lesson Generation X style."

II.

Thomas Cale, a well-known historian, stumbled into his bedroom and slammed the door. He doubted that the oak door would hold against the intruder for long, but he figured it would give him enough time to do anything that might save his life.

He rested against the door for only a moment before some of the adrenaline drained from his system, which brought the deep gash across his arm to his attention. Thomas though he had been swift enough and agile enough to avoid the attacks but from the looks of things, he had grown slow in his old age.

The historian's eyes darted across the room looking for something that could serve him as a weapon. His mind flashed back to his daughter's insistence that he purchase a gun. The older man scoffed at his daughter, telling her no one wanted to attack a historian...he didn't need anything that dangerous in his house. Now, he wished he had listened to his daughter.

He rushed from the door upon hearing the heavy footsteps of the knight approaching the door. A knight, a figure he had read about and taught about in various classes was here now, but instead of being the honorable, chivalrous being the school history book presented, Thomas now witnessed, the ruthless, relentless murdering instincts of this knight. Surely, there was something bizarre about this knight. There was no way that he was really an assassin, sent to kill an old historian with a touch of senility.

Still, Thomas kept his hand pressed against the laceration between his shoulder and bicep, despite the throbbing pain and streaming blood. This knight was definitely here to kill him.

He ran to the opposite side of the room and opened the doors to the balcony slightly. He then back tracked and quietly slipped into the closet, hoping that his plan would work.

From the darkness of the closet, he could only rely on his ears to feed him information. The heavy door flew open, banging against the wall and an end table badly positioned behind the door. The heavy footsteps were now in the room. Thomas could feel each step vibrate the floor, but he kept his composure and silence.

The footsteps retreated toward the balcony.

_Yes, my plan is working_, Thomas gladly thought to himself.

He heard the glass shatter, probably from a swipe of the large broadsword that the knight wielded. The footsteps came close to the closet and just as Thomas thought they were going to pass, they stopped.

Thomas held his breath and closed his eyes, silently praying to a deity that before then, he did not believe in.

He sat there so long, he thought the knight had abandoned his post from in front of the closet, that Thomas had simply been so deep in prayer, he had blocked out all sound, to include the retreating footsteps of his pursuer.

A few more soundless moments passed. Every fiber in Thomas's body seemed to be focused on hearing anything out of the ordinary, no matter how minute. The ebbing silence suddenly became deafening as Thomas strained to hear anything.

Nothing. The sound of nothing. It could be as silent as space, or as deafening as the engine of an airliner. Thomas had been hit by both of these extremes, which was both disorienting and frightening. Still, a glimmer of hope for his fate slowly returned.

Thomas shifted slightly realizing that his foot had fallen asleep. Annoyed by the tingling feeling, Thomas shifted more then slowly stood. He stayed alert, listening for any approaching footsteps. Nothing.

He reached for the door handle and turned the knob, a small squeak seeming like a pounding alarm for the night. He stopped turning. Nothing.

Thomas pushed open the door, slowly at first, peering into the small sliver of bedroom he could see. Nothing.

Pushing it open farther, Thomas got a much larger view of the bedroom. The only thing out of place was the open door that now rested only inches from the end table it had slammed into earlier. Still nothing.

Thomas poked his head out then took a timid step into the bedroom. Nothing.

He took another step and realized his foot hadn't fully woken up yet. He fell.

As Thomas pummeled toward the ground, he felt the swipe of a sword barely miss him. If he had been standing, he surely would have been decapitated.

Thomas hit the floor hard as the sword sunk into the wood doorframe of the closet.

He looked over his shoulder and realized the knight was much more than a ruthless assassin. He was a patient stalker. There was no way Thomas could escape this menace. He knew minutes before he actually lost his life that he was not going to survive.

Thomas scurried across the floor using his elbows to pull himself along. The knight moved quickly and grabbed Thomas by the back of his tweed coat. Snatching him back, Thomas found himself sailing through the air, stopped abruptly by a wall.

Dazed and racked with pain, Thomas's eyes focused to find the knight standing directly in front of him.

No, this was wrong. He was a meek and mild historian, who had taken an interest in the occult through the centuries. He was a high school teacher, and taught sometimes at the community college for summer school. He was a widower, losing his wife to cancer ten years ago. He had never married again. Thomas had been a great father to his daughter through her twenty years of being alive. There was nothing about him that was extraordinary or that made him stand out so much that someone would want to come and kill him in such an elaborate manner.

"Don't do this. I don't have anything you want," Thomas hurriedly whispered.

The knight pushed back the helmet cover and for the first time, Thomas saw the face of his attacker. It was at that moment that he knew for certain he would not escape his fate. He was a simple man somehow involved in a plan far beyond his knowledge and wisdom. He wished he had only a few hours to find out why he was being killed, why this mysterious figure stood before him, and if he ever had a chance to avoid his fate.

The armored figure said nothing, only lifted his broadsword high above his head.

His eyes grew wide as the blade swung down forcefully, submerging Thomas Cale into a world of darkness.

III.

Rich Cale hadn't slept well in the past few weeks, which is why he ignored the light rapping on his door. He had fallen asleep what seemed like five minutes ago and didn't want to lose that. However, the knock resounded much louder, snatching Rich from his uneasy sleep.

"Who is it?" Rich wasn't able to hide the fatigue or annoyance in his voice.

"It's Mike. Can I come in?"

Rich's eyes remained closed as he responded, "I'm naked. Come back later."

The familiar squeak of the door and subsequent closing of the door told Rich his ruse didn't work. He could feel eyes staring at him even though the darkness of the room.

"What do you want?" Rich groggily asked.

Michael sighed. "When most people see someone they haven't seen in at least two years, they usually start the conversation like, _Hey_ or _How's it going_. You make me feel like an unwanted guest."

He took a cautious step into the darkened room. It was daytime when he arrived, but no sun shone into this room. It resembled a tomb. Dark, cold, and unfriendly. The light from the hallway reached Rich's bed, casting him in a pale white light.

Michael took a moment to study Rich Cale. Though it had been two and a half years since they had last seen each other, Rich hadn't changed one bit. His dark hair, stoic features, piercing eyes were all still the same. He still had his goatee. The only thing Michael didn't see was Grimore, Rich's presumed pet cat.

"What are you doing _here_, anyways?"

Michael sat in a leather recliner before answering. "Well, Rich, for those of us that don't own a company, we had to settle on simply going to school. For most of us, it was away from Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. We left only a short while after you did. The school was closed down about a year after we left."

Michael shifted in the chair. "I was able to transfer some of my credits to a pretty good school. I just graduated on the first of June. This is my last official summer break, so I decided to do a little sightseeing. We never had the chance to see the great estate of the Cales, so I decided to come out here to check it out. My next stop is Japan."

Michael smiled, hoping that Rich would lighten up. However, Rich's reply was sour and cold. "My door was locked. How did you get in?"

Michael sighed loudly, hopefully expressing his agitation to Rich. "There's no lock that a telekinetic can't open, Rich," Michael replied in a tone that indicated to Rich he should have known that. "Tasha let me in the front door and told me you shut yourself off from the world up here."

Michael reached for a floor lamp next to the recliner and flipped the switch, turning the dark room into a friendlier, lighted environment. "So are you going to talk to me or what?"

Rich covered his head with the dark blue quilt draped over his bed. "It's nothing any of you need to be concerned with."

"So that translates into there's actually something wrong and you're not telling anyone because you think you can handle it on your own."

Rich sighed impatiently, annoyed with Michael's continuous pursuit of information that Rich wouldn't divulge. Why couldn't he just go away and leave him alone?

"Rich, when Tasha told me that you had been acting strangely, I was concerned. This isn't like you at all." Michael shook his head, "I would expect Vincent to lock himself in his room and not talk to anyone, but not you."

Rich threw back the covers. "You don't know me that well," Rich retorted.

Michael was stunned by the tone and message he received. "Look," Michael stood, "I don't know what's wrong, but I didn't come here to argue with you. We've been through too much to let you wither away in some dark room, because you were acting too proud to ask for help when you needed it. I respect you, Rich, and you have people around you that care about you. Don't push them away."

Michael turned off the lamp, crossed the room, and left without looking back.

Rich sighed heavily, pulling the quilt back over his head. He dropped off into an uneasy sleep, but it was only a few minutes before another nightmare invaded his slumber.

IV.

Detective Randall Harris rolled his head from side to side then tried to focus on his work, but his eyes kept wandering to the news paper clipping taped haphazardly on his desk. He studied the article for the tenth time that day, somehow getting the distinct feeling that something was going to happen.

He looked at the headline again, "Cale Family Murdered in Castle". He remembered the entire night vividly.

The rain was coming down in torrents as Harris drove to the Cale residence, a large, old castle obviously passed down through the generations. Olivia, the switchboard operator, had made the call over the radio network. Harris just happened to be in the area.

He drove past the gates and up the driveway, and that is where he saw the Cales' son. He was standing in the middle of the front yard, completely drenched. Even thought rain streamed down his face, Harris could see the lines of tears down the boy's face.

Harris quickly got out of the vehicle with an umbrella. "Here, kid, take this," he gruffly offered.

The boy simply stood there, his hands slack by his sides, his face racked with emotional turmoil. Harris led the boy to his car and sat him inside. Harris was reluctant to leave the boy alone, but since he was the first on the scene, he wanted to ensure the perpetrator was truly gone.

He retrieved his gun and took cautious steps inside. The front door had been left wide open, but the house was dark. Too dark. It was times like this Harris was thankful for his keen night vision.

Harris peered around the large entry area, listening for any strange sounds. It was when he stepped into the living room that the familiar and repulsive metallic smell of blood invaded his nose. He stepped around the couch and saw that the father and mother had both been stabbed with a sharp object, either a large knife or a sword. Either way, they had been stabbed multiple times.

The remembrance of the scene brought Harris back to his senses. The ten-year anniversary of the incident was only three days away. In all his years as a detective, he knew that unsolved mysteries usually had a way of surfacing on their anniversaries. As much as he didn't want it to, his gut told him that the murders back then were just the beginning. Though he had no reason to be suspicious, hit gut instinct warned him of impending danger.

Harris picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Yeah, this is Harris. Can you let the chief know that I'm going to take a week of leave? Yeah, I've got some things to take care of. Thanks, Olivia."

Harris hung up the phone and looked at the worn article. He hoped that he was just jumping to conclusions, but still, he wanted to reach Rich Cale before anyone or anything else did.

Notes:

This takes place way before the current organization of the X-Men. After the breakout of the new teams, Jubilee and Paige were both left off of any active roster.

This story crosses my own Generation X story and 616 X-Men, which explains the existence of the new characters and the reference of past situations. In my Generation X story, seven new students joined the school and they had a slew of adventures together. However, to align the story with 616 continuity, the school closed down, Everett and Angelo both have passed away (current continuity), Jean Grey has passed away as well, and Emma is headmistress of the institute, which is where this story picks up. This story is meant to be a stand-alone story.

If you're curious about the new characters or any of the mentioned past situations, check out Generation X: Volume 1 and Generation X: Volume 2.

The first scene is taken from Uncanny X-Men 173, where Kitty, talking to Illyana Rasputin, shouts that Professor Xavier is a jerk.

Rich Cale and Grimore were created by Richard B. Sampson, Jr. who has stories posted on this site as well. Be sure to check them out!


	2. Chapter 2

I.

The Acquisition of Power was thought to be a simple legend written about as a fairy tale, passed down through the generations as a fable to ward off those that were greedy for the vast power that the family held. However, fate proved that this was much more than a fairy tale. It was real and now, one man knew that he and he alone would hold the power of his family. Once he gained the power of his counterparts, he could reshape the world to his will. He could correct the mistakes that were made with the initial creation of this world. And he would be able to lord over it all.

He knew it sounded like a trite plan. And cliché. Every body wanted to take over the world. But he knew that he was different from the rest of those imbeciles. He was better than all of them—the Magnetos, Apocalypses, and Sinisters. Those commonplace thorns in society's side were narrow-minded and selfish. He would succeed where they failed and do things the right way. Single-handedly, he would create the perfect world. And would all belong to him.

Only a few more deaths would secure his throne.

The armor clanked heavily across the floor to his desk, even through the wearer moved fluidly. He pushed aside books and papers, some in unrecognizable handwriting, and came to a stop on a list of names.

He grabbed a pen and scribbled through Thomas Cale, which was written multiple times on the paper. There was only one inscription of the name that remained.

Yes, only one more Cale left. Then everything would be his. The Acquisition of Power would be complete.

Simply imagining success, made him surge with energy. The room was too small to accommodate the power that radiated from this armored figure. It ruffled papers, knocked over stacks of books, shook glass bottles to the floor, and rattled the single window built high on the wall. And as a laugh burst forth, the energy tore thought the room, causing more destruction and shook the foundation of the castle.

His maniacal laugh echoed through the halls, the power he now wielded slowly driving him insane.

II.

"Mr. Cale," the young blond secretary hurried behind Thomas Cale, the owner of Cale Enterprises. When she was within a few feet of him, she said, "This important message was left for you. The caller didn't say who they were, but they stressed that you get this message and follow it precisely."

She hastily handed the yellow piece of paper to him.

Thomas took the paper and skimmed over it, reading the words silently. Once he had finished, he crumpled the paper in his hand.

The secretary looked stunned and guilty. "I apologize Mr. Cale, I—"

Thomas gave the young woman a warm smile. "I should be apologizing. I didn't mean to alarm you. It was just an unexpected message, one I wasn't looking forward to. I'm leaving for the day. Can you cancel my meetings and forward my calls to Pat?"

The secretary nodded eagerly. "Yes, Mr. Cale."

"If everything quiets down, go home early. It's Friday." Thomas smiled again before heading toward the elevator.

"Thank you, Mr. Cale!" the secretary called as the elevator doors closed.

Thomas made his way to his car and pulled out of the parking garage of the high rise headquarters of Cale Enterprises. Instead of turning left on Sanford Street, which always took him by a small café he always ate lunch at, he turned left, heading toward the theater.

It was up until last year that the theater would be packed to the brim with patrons watching various performances put on by the drama group of Easton. However, due to financial difficulties and a lack of an audience, the theater had closed its doors. It was still a nice building: the outside was of old, faded brick with iron balconies white shutters. The inside, which had been remodeled only five years before was lavish with wood paneling, combined with gold fixtures and bright lighting.

Thomas walked through the front doors and closed them quietly, even though he was sure that the person that had summoned him here was already aware of his presence. His hard soled Oxfords thudded lightly on the carpet then down the aisle, straight to the stage.

Thomas leaped over the orchestra pit onto the stage. He scanned the seats but saw no indication that anyone had been there. Before he could decide what to do next, a bright spotlight clicked on and shined right in his face.

Covering his eyes, Thomas squinted to try to make out who was behind the spotlight. When his eyes adjusted, he saw that there was no one there.

Then, he felt it. Someone was behind him.

Moving with much more agility than most his age, Thomas dropped down. He felt a strong swipe of a blade, which missed his head by inches. Thomas sprung up and flipped once, putting a bit of distance between him and his attacker.

"Well, it's about time you showed up. I was beginning to worry that you had canceled on me," Thomas held his hand by his side and a flame erupted toward the floor. It disappeared, leaving behind a magnificent sword, which Thomas now held in front of him.

"So, this is the prophesized threat to the Cale bloodline, huh? You look like a simple, clunky knight to me."

The armored knight simply stepped back, positioning himself into an offensive stance, his sword poised for an attack.

"A man of few words? Fine, I don't like chit-chatting anyways."

Thomas made the first move with an overhead strike. The armored figure blocked the attack easily and counterattacked with a low strike. Thomas blocked the attack effortlessly. The two went back and forth for what seemed like an hour, one never able to gain an advantage over the other.

Thomas breathed heavily as he surveyed his opponent, who had no indication of fatigue. He stood, ready for the next wave of attacks.

He took the pause in battle to analyze the knight's fighting style. It was definitely formidable, one of the best that Thomas had ever seen. But it was too good. Thomas was a master of the sword, his fighting style passed down through the generations. Yet, this knight was able to keep up blow for blow. There was something familiar about this knight. Too familiar.

An unfamiliar feeling of uneasiness suddenly swept through Thomas as he waited for the slightest move from the knight.

"Waiting on me, huh?" Thomas broke the silence that permeated the theater. "Seems my sword won't do, try this!" Thomas leaped into the air and with a swipe of his sword, rained down ice daggers.

The knight phased out of the way, appearing behind Thomas in the air and landed a strike to his back.

Thomas hit the stage hard but still kept possession of his sword. He tried to shake off the pain that suddenly racked his body. Just then, he realized that he wasn't prepared for this battle in the least. He knew what he was up against, yet he underestimated his opponent. Now, he was going to fall victim to whatever the knight had in store for him.

Thomas turned onto his back to see the knight with his large broadsword over his head. It then arched downward right toward his head.

At the last possible second, Thomas threw his sword up and blocked the attack, much to the knight's surprise.

"I'm not going to make it so bloody easy for you! You want me? Well, you're going to have to find me!" With that, Thomas repeated a chant in a guttural language, spoken in some ancient time in some mysterious, long-forgotten land.

The knight looked back in forth as unnatural energies began to crackle in the air. Sparks of electricity began to pop and the theater began to shake. The knight turned back to Thomas who had scrambled out of the knight's reach and now stood on the opposite side of the stage.

"I know your plan, dark knight. I also know that you haven't completed your quest yet. And now, I will be out of your grasp."

A portal opened behind Thomas, a swirling of blue and grey, opening to a place beyond the comprehension of normal people.

He waved then took a step back, pulled into the void of the portal. The knight moved quickly, and reached for the portal as it closed. Thomas only caught a glimpse of the knight successfully following him into the portal, before it closed, sending Thomas and his pursuer to a destination unknown.

III.

Tasha Lewis read over the same sentence in the magazine she was reading. It was the tenth time that she had read the sentence. Giving up on trying to distract herself, she closed the magazine.

She glanced at her watch. It had only been five minutes since Michael agreed to go talk to Rich. But even five minutes seemed too long. Tasha wished he would come back with Rich tagging along, apologizing for having all of them worried.

It was only a few days ago that Rich withdrew from everyone and kept himself closed in his room. He wouldn't let anyone in, not even Grimore. Yvette, Kai, Godiva, and Tasha took turns making meals and leaving them outside his room. Sometimes they would return to find it eaten, but other times, it would be totally untouched.

Though Tasha was adopted, she felt that they had a strong sibling bond. Before this, they told each other everything, relied on each other without fear of being judged, and helped each other no matter what happened. He was a great older brother and Tasha did her best to be a great younger sister. Until now.

She partially blamed herself, lately she had been so caught up with school that if there were any warning signs, she wouldn't have noticed them, even if they had been blatantly obvious. When Rich suddenly went into self-imposed exile, Tasha wondered if she could have prevented it. Maybe if she were around more, he would have had someone to talk to about whatever was bothering him.

Tasha shook her head. She was being irrational. She wasn't gone any more than a normal teenager in the eleventh grade was. And she wasn't the only person that Rich could talk to and she wasn't the only person Rich was ignoring. Kai, Godiva, Yvette, and Grimore were in the same boat, worried sick.

Still, the irrational thought that she somehow hadn't done enough nagged at her.

She was relieved to see Michael McNeal head back down the stairs but sighed when she saw he was alone.

"Did he talk to you?" Tasha's violet eyes were heavy-laden with concern.

Michael tried to smile, "I don't think he was happy with my lock picking skills," he tapped his temple. "He could use some sun and a shower, but other than that, he's okay."

Tasha frowned. "Aren't you the one always telling people they can't lie to a psi?"

"I guess I am, huh?" Michael smiled. Tasha was a psi-like Michael, but her powers were limited to telepathic communication, mind-control, and what she called her Psychic Bolt. Basically, the attack would fire off all the synapses in her opponent, rendering them unconscious or worse. She rarely used it though, relying on her other powers to help others.

Michael pondered on the best way to frame Rich's condition. "He's closing himself off to the world. I know that he's a private person. He was always like that, even at school. But this is even worse than that. It's more like he's hiding from something."

Tasha shook her head. "He just started acting like this a few days ago. It's really strange. He won't talk to anyone. Not Kai, Grimore, or Godiva. He's even been avoiding Yvette."

"That's not like him at all. No matter what happened, he always kept Yvette close and told her everything. I would suspect that he held all of you in the same regard. He wouldn't just shut you out like that," Michael said.

Rich was Yvette's savior, helping her to literally break out of her shell, and experience life as a normal person. Well, as normal of a life as a student of Xavier's could have. Eventually, they fell in love. Rich and Yvette eventually left the school temporarily to resume his position as head of Paladin Technologies.

"I'm sorry. I wish that Rich were feeling a little better. It's terrible that you came all this way for this."

Michael smiled warmly. "It's not your fault. I probably should have called before I popped over here. It's not a big deal. I'll just stay in a hotel for a few days and—"

"I hope I didn't hear what I think I just heard," a stern voice sounded from the kitchen. Godiva Cale leaned from around the corner and gave Michael a no-nonsense glare. "I hope that I didn't hear you were staying in a hotel. What I should have heard is that you were bringing your stuff in to stay here."

Michael shrank back. "Well, I don't want to impose," he shyly said.

"Mike, look at this humongous castle. There are only a few people that live in this place. There's no way you could impose on anyone here. Now, grab your stuff. Kai's finishing up dinner."

"Thanks, Godiva."

"Don't worry about it. You guys took care of my cousin for all that time, this is the least I could do."

"Well, your cousin definitely saved our butts quite a few times."

Godiva smiled. "That's Rich for you. Now hurry up so we can eat. You look like you need something to eat anyways."

Michael looked disapprovingly at himself. He thought that he looked healthy. Maybe a little slender with little fat but not emaciated like Godiva made it sound. "Are you saying I'm skinny?"

"Well, you could stand to gain a few pounds," Godiva smiled as she disappeared into the kitchen.

Michael desperately looked at Tasha. "My self-esteem is dropping to zero. Please tell me I'm not that skinny."

As Tasha shrugged and smiled, Yvette rounded the corner with a huge smile. "Don't worry. You look great!"

"Yvette, it's good to see you," Michael returned the smile.

She looked great. Her red hair, striking azure eyes, and fair skin still made her look like a specially made doll than a toughened student of Xavier's. No one would be able to tell by looking that she could instantly transform her skin into a diamond hard, razor-sharp substance, complete with claws that replaced her hands and feet.

Her brilliant smile faltered slightly. "I'm sorry that you came at such a difficult time."

Michael shook his head. "Maybe he just needs some old friends around. I'll call the others in a few days and see if they can make it out."

"I think that would be great. I wouldn't mind seeing everyone again myself. It's been a long time." Yvette added, "I know Rich is acting strangely right now, but I'm sure he appreciates your visit."

"Yeah, I just wish I could figure out what was wrong," Michael rubbed his chin. He respected Rich enough to not read his mind. But if this went on for too long, Michael was willing to have Rich be angry with him if it meant getting to the bottom of what was going on. But that would be a last resort. Right now, Michael was simply glad that he had a place to stay and great food to eat.

Michael quickly grabbed his bags and set them in a room on the third floor of five. He washed his hands then quickly headed back downstairs. Michael's mind wandered to the others and he really did contemplate calling them out to England. But then, he thought against it and settled down to eat.

Despite the power he wielded, there was no way for Michael to know that before the week was out, he would be seeing plenty of his teammates again and not under the best circumstances.

IV.

The Danger Room session was enjoyable, but after it was done, Jubilee found herself slipping back into a depressed state. It was easy to hide it from everyone with attitude, but when she was alone, she couldn't hide it from herself.

She stood at her window, gazing out into the night sky. In her mind, she connected the stars to make Everett Thomas's smiling face then rearranged the lines to make Angelo Espinoza sticking out his tongue at her. Another few twists of the lines created the smiling face of Jean Grey-Summers.

Jubilee couldn't escape her thoughts even in the vast night sky. She grabbed a magazine from her bed and flopped down. She had only glanced at the page for a moment when she heard a knock at her door.

"Yeah," she shouted.

The door opened and a familiar face stepped into the room.

"Monet?" Jubilee tossed her magazine to the side. "Why are you here?"

"I predicted that you would ask me such a foolish question, so I prepared an equally foolish answer. Because I am."

"Same old Monet."

"Same old Lee."

The two girls smiled at each other. Their relationship was always a strange one, a solid mix of love and hate, competition and compassion, friendship and criticism. Through it all, they still respected each other on a level that few could understand. Despite their relationship, now more than ever, she was glad to see Monet.

"So, you got some time off from playing Princess Power with the Paris X-Men?"

Monet strode confidently across the room and glanced out of the window. "Lee, you never cease to amaze me with your childish attacks. I presumed you had grown out of such presumptuous mannerisms, but apparently, though not often, I was mistaken."

"Hayseed, I need a translator!" Jubilee yelled out of her door.

Bare footsteps scuttled down the hall. "Jubilee, is everything okay?" Paige rushed into the room, short of breath. "I heard screaming and thought—" she trailed off when she saw Monet staring at her blankly.

"Paige, you always were the one for dramatics," Monet smiled.

Paige rushed over and wrapped her arms around Monet. "Ohmygosh—itssogoodtoseeyou—youdontknowwhatsbeengoingon—everythingsbeensoconfusingandterribleandthenigotkickedoffthex-menand—"

Monet gasped and attempted to wriggle out of Paige's emotional grasp. "Paige, though I possess a copious amount of powers and am highly fluent in several languages, I cannot comprehend or even vaguely translate gibberish, particularly when it's accompanied with sobbing."

Paige pulled back a second, tears brimming at the edges of her bright blue eyes. "I'm sorry, Monet. I just—"

Monet looked embarrassed. "I wasn't trying to be insensitive, Paige. I—" as Monet's voice fell, so did her eyes until she was looking at her feet.

"Hey, don't sweat it," Jubilee brightly said. "We're all here together, right? And that's all that matters."

Monet smiled and so did Paige.

"Okay, group hug, just this one time while Monet and I can still stand each other," Jubilee reached for the two girls and they embraced until they felt better.

V.

The hard, cold concrete was the first thing Thomas Cale felt as his eyes fluttered open. Then pain.

As his eyes focused, he saw a crowd of people hovering over him with expressions of bewilderment, concern, and wonder on their faces. He couldn't discern a single comment from the hushed murmurs that circulated through the crowd, but Thomas knew they were talking about him.

Thomas tried to move but the pain was too intense. Had he fallen from the sky? He suddenly felt uneasy with his plan. His teleportation spell did its job, but at the same time, something didn't feel quite right. He should have simply ended up outside the theater, where he would have more room to battle his opponent, whoever it was underneath all the armor. Which then brought up the question, where was the Dark Knight? Thomas knew that it had followed him into the portal, but it should have emerged right behind him. But then again, if there was some kind of disruption in the portal, maybe something else had happened. Something Thomas wasn't in any shape to think about.

His head began to spin and he felt like he was going to vomit. He coughed but took a deep breath and tried to relax. There was no way he was getting up. A siren wailed in the distance and Thomas realized someone had at least called an ambulance. He would be bale to figure everything out once he got a little sleep.

_No!_

Thomas couldn't afford to slip into unconsciousness. The knight was still out there somewhere and would be coming for him. He had to be ready, but he was so tired. Maybe a small nap wouldn't hurt. Yeah, a small rest then he would be ready for the Dark Knight.

As the siren grew closer, Thomas Cale slipped into an unconscious slumber.

VI.

The sound of metal crashing against concrete echoed through the deserted alley then it was silent again. The armored figure looked left and right, slightly disoriented, but angered by where he had ended up.

And where the hell was Thomas Cale?

Then someone slumped against the brick wall caught his eye. It must've been Thomas. The figure approached the figure and snatched him up by his shirt, pinned him against the wall, and lifted him two feet off the ground.

It wasn't until the last second that the knight saw that the man he held in his hand wasn't Thomas Cale, but a disheveled bum, reeking of alcohol and sweat. The bum opened his eyes slowly and gasped at the sight of the Dark Knight. He wanted to scream, but his raspy voice was caught in his throat.

"Where is he?" the knight growled.

The drunken homeless man mumbled a few incoherent syllables then his head rolled forward loosely.

"Where is he?" the knight asked through gritted teeth.

The reply was nothing more than a whisper of sleep. The knight grabbed the homeless man with both hands and slammed him into the wall, leaving the man dangling a foot off the ground, his head smashed into the brick wall.

The armored knight heard the siren approaching and quickly deduced that Thomas in fact had ended up elsewhere and some concerned patron had called for an ambulance. It was of no consequence though. The old fool had simply prolonged the inevitable. His death was unavoidable.

The knight had a single thought in mind, so it never occurred to him that the environment was totally different from where he first battled Thomas Cale.

After killing the useless bum, the dark knight lingered only until he detected the faint residual energy signature of Thomas. Once locked on, he turned and strode confidently down the alleyway, made a left, and headed straight to the hospital. The knight tromped into the street, disregarding the peculiar stares and headed after the sirens. Straight toward the hospital.

No one would stand in his way. This was the last Cale that he had to kill before gaining the ultimate power. Just thinking about it made his heart speed and his blood race. The energy surged through him relentlessly, filling every piece of him with magical power, strength, resilience, speed, and agility. No one would dare stop him and if they tried, they would meet the sharp end of his mighty blade.

The sound of a siren approaching from behind didn't even register as a threat. Nor did the screeching cars in front of him. The police—the knight assumed that's what they were—stood in his path, guns drawn, barking commands for him to stop, to put his sword down, to lay on the ground.

Didn't they realize they were nothing but weak humans? None of them deserved to breathe the same air, let alone attempt to stand in his way. The surprising nerve of these police, thinking that mere bullets would stop him.

They shot several times at the knight, but the bullets ricocheted off his black armor, never slowing his stride even for a moment.

The police were brave, the knight gave them that small credit. They stood their ground, even when the blade whistled through the air, they didn't scream. Maybe it was because the blade moved too swiftly for them to react. Regardless, they fell before his blade like a hot knife through warm butter. Killing them took no effort at all.

Then there were screams. Someone always screamed. A woman, a passerby on her way to the store or to the bus stop, stopped to gander at the scene and yet somehow was surprised at the death and destruction she witnessed.

But it wasn't for the dark knight to understand. He had his mission and no one would stand in his way.

No one.


	3. Chapter 3

I.

The mornings and evenings were the most hectic times at the newspaper office. In the mornings, everyone rushed to get assignments for the next day's paper. During the evening time, everyone was busy editing and adding any last minute developments to those stories before they went to print. Around noon time things would quiet down only slightly.

Graylon Walsh always loved the hustle and bustle of the newsroom. It never got old to him. It was like having an adventure everyday. However, it didn't compare to the days of Generation X, where he lived what other reporters only wrote about. He pushed those thoughts aside though, convinced that those days were long gone.

It had been quite some time since he had actually talked to any of his old teammates. There weren't any hard feelings between them but work and other excuses served as viable reasons not to call. Plus, Graylon was acutely aware of the happenings at the Xavier School for Higher Learning and things hadn't exactly been smooth. Even if he wanted to, Graylon wouldn't have been able to just stop by for a minute to shoot the breeze. Plus, only a few weeks ago, Jean Grey-Summers was murdered by a figure claiming to be Magneto. Since then, the school had been in constant turmoil and change. But no matter now much he reasoned, Graylon couldn't shake his guilt for not stopping in.

Graylon leaned back from his desk and glanced out the window. Night had fallen and the sky was riddled with twinkling stars. He admired the sky for a moment then sat back down, glancing once more at the real-time website he was on. The Hype posted news blurbs from across the world on a message board. It was constantly changing and updating, giving reporters around the world a glance into what was happening. Graylon stumbled across it one day surfing the internet and since then, he had made it one of his favorites. If he was on his computer, The Hype was always up on his screen.

Graylon was about to close the window when another message popped up. It came from Easton, England. The city sounded familiar, but Graylon couldn't place it immediately. As Graylon read through the article, he frowned. It claimed that a man had fallen inexplicably from the sky and from rumor had it that it was Thomas Cale, long-lost member of the Cale family. Then Graylon remembered. Rich Cale's family lived in Easton.

The next thing that alarmed Graylon was the fact that the man had fallen from the sky. Though most would have immediately dismissed the story as a tabloid hoax, Graylon wasn't so sure, especially if Rich was somehow involved.

The article went on to say that he was taken to the hospital, but he was in stable condition. They were still waiting to confirm the man's identity before printing the story. Another story caught his eye regarding a rampaging knight. Graylon didn't usually jump to conclusions but somehow, it seemed much too coincidental that Rich's grandfather suddenly appeared and some knight was now wreaking havoc on the local population. Graylon wondered if Rich knew what was going on. And more importantly, was it something serious that he couldn't handle alone?

Graylon sighed and chastised himself. He was thinking of himself, jumping into the center of some situation to relive the adventurous days as a superhero mutant teen. He wasn't a superhero. Not anymore. He was Graylon Walsh, reporter for the Daily Bugle and if anything, his interest in this was going to have to be from a reporter's perspective.

He quickly ran a cross reference on the Cale family and came across several articles telling about Rich assuming the head position of Paladin Technologies and accepting his inheritance. It also talked about his cousin and a recent incident with a criminal who broke out of jail. That story referenced an earlier story, where Rich testified in a case against the criminal.

Then Graylon came to a complete halt. An article describing his parent's murder filled the screen. Out of all the time Graylon knew Rich, he never made mention of anything like that, but then again, it made sense that he wouldn't want to talk about it. He saw several articles about it, almost turning the traumatic situation into a sensationalized tragedy. That would explain Rich's aversion to reporters.

He continued to read then he saw the date. In only two days, it would be exactly ten years ago. Graylon wasn't psychic by any means, but having a keen eye for coincidences and being able to piece clues together, Graylon felt that something was going to happen. Something big. Now, he knew he wasn't jumping to conclusions. All these things were related and Rich would need help, whether he realized it or not.

Graylon knew what he had to do. He closed down his computer, placed the last of his papers in his satchel, turned off his computer and made his way to his boss's office, the infamous J. Jonah Jameson.

"And why is the superstar reporter, Graylon Walsh, heading to the boss's office? A hot lead maybe?" Alicia Livingston stepped from around a corner and stood directly in Graylon's path. A sly grin was plastered on her face as she stared at Graylon, waiting for his answer.

"Alicia?" Graylon was surprised by her sudden appearance, but somehow, he knew she would show up sooner or later. Because she appointed herself to be Graylon's rival, Alicia made it a point to be where he was ready to steal his story for her own fame and glory. Though he had tried to talk her out of her childish game, Alicia continued to challenge him around every turn.

"You wouldn't be so surprised if you weren't up to something. So you'd better answer me truthfully."

Graylon sighed. Didn't she ever get tired of this?

He replied, "Look, I'm not playing this your game. Something serious may be happening. I'm going to see the boss."

He edged around Alicia impatiently and briskly turned the corner, but Alicia was right on his heels.

"Why are you following me, Alicia?" Graylon asked, already knowing the answer, but wistfully hoping that she simply happened to be going in the same direction as him.

"Richard Cale Jr. His parents were murdered almost ten years ago. He inherited Paladin Technologies when he was still a kid. He made his mark in the States by joining Xavier's school, along with our star reporter. Only recently did he take a leave of absence to take care of his business along with his cousin and adopted sister. Apparently, a mysterious fellow fell from the sky, who could be his long-lost grandfather. Coincidentally, the three-year anniversary of his parents' death is in three days. And you figure that something's going on."

"Do you have anything better to do than to snoop around my desk?"

"Don't be so vain. Everyone knows your clandestine connection with any mutant team with an X in front of it. And everyone knows about your connections abroad, such as with the Asahara family, St. Croix family, and the Cale family. Anything with those key phrases pops up on my screen. You won't keep the hot stories all for yourself anymore, Walsh."

Graylon rolled his eyes. "Always one step in front of me, aren't you, Alicia?" he sarcastically asked. He prayed that she would catch the sarcasm and not give a smart-ass reply. He wasn't in the mood for a verbal fencing match.

When he got to Jameson's secretary, Graylon spun and faced Alicia who stopped abruptly. "Listen, this is way above your head. I know you love to play this rival reporter game, but this isn't the time."

"I'm not playing games, Walsh. And you're not setting foot outside this country without me. Now, let's see J.J." She brushed past him and without knocking, strode into J. Jonah Jameson's office.

"I know about the Cale situation, Walsh. I'm assigning you and Livingston to the story. Get with your X-people and get to England on the double," Jameson barked his orders with a cigar in his mouth that magically stayed in his mouth regardless of whether he was talking or yelling. Having finished what he needed to say, Jameson turned back to the papers on his desk, barked some orders at the secretary, and flipped through more papers.

"Why are you sending Alicia with me to England?" Graylon tried unsuccessfully to hide the anger in his voice.

J.J. shuffled through some papers on his desk, seeming not to even hear Graylon's protest.

"Boss!" Graylon slammed his hands on Jameson's oak desk.

Jameson looked up slowly in disbelief, his bushy eyebrows rising in anger. "You need something, Walsh?" Jameson barked.

"Why is she," Graylon pointed to make his reference clear, "going with me? Rich is an old friend of mine. I'm not going there for a story. Tell her she can't go."

J.J. crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Wherever you go, she goes. This Rich Cale character is full of drama. Drama that this newspaper is going to have the scoop on. Your little personal relationship with Cale is going to taint your eye for good reporting. But I like you Walsh, so I'm sending Livingston to make sure you get the story."

It seemed impossible, but Graylon turned an even deeper shade of red. "His life isn't just a sitcom that you can tune into when you're interested."

"Are you saying that you want to quit, Walsh?"

Graylon stepped back uncertainly. The last thing Graylon expected was to lose his job. He prided himself on his writing ability and knack for identifying the stories that people wanted to read about. Ever since he was a young boy, Graylon aspired to be a reporter. Lucky for him, J. Jonah Jameson was an old family friend and took an instant liking to Graylon, seeing him almost as another son.

J.J landed Graylon a job as a student reporter for the newspaper in Snow Valley. After joining Xavier's, Graylon took a break from reporting, but picked it back up eventually. Since then, he worked co-jointly with the newspaper in Snow Valley and the Daily Bugle. To lose his job now would be a severe blow not only to Graylon's pride but to his work as well. No one would want to hire a reporter fired from a newspaper, especially one as well-known as the Daily Bugle. It was suicide.

"No," he weakly replied, drained of his fire.Graylon sighed and turned to leave. However, Graylon turned and made one last attempt at reconciling the situation. "You know this isn't right."

"What, you don't like Alicia?"

"We're rivals. Why would I like her?"

J.J. gave an expression that could have been interpreted as amusement. "In this business, your enemy is your best friend. Now go on before I assign the both of you to the kiddy circus coming into town."

Alicia's jaw dropped with horror, "I hate kids."

"Good. Now get out. You have an X-plane to catch."

Knowing that further argument was useless, Graylon glared at Alicia who returned with a smug smile. He spun on his heel and stormed out of the office intending to slam the door, but Alicia was in the way.

Alicia would do nothing but complicate the situation, especially if something happened. No one knew about Graylon's mutant ability. He could generate a bioelectric pulse which could do anything from stun an organic being to render them unconscious. Graylon hadn't used his power since leaving the school though. So there was no need for anyone else to know. Everyone did know that he attended the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, but since normal (those without mutant powers) students went there, everyone simply assumed he fell into that category. So not only was his story in jeopardy, but now his secret could be revealed.

On top of that, how would the X-Men feel about a reporter on the premises? He hadn't really talked to anyone there in a while. Hopefully, it wouldn't be a big issue. Graylon hoped that Nightcrawler or Angel could give them a lift in the Blackbird, without asking a lot of questions. Plus, maybe he'd get a chance to see some of his old classmates. He thought about it and he realized he didn't know what any of them were up to.

Graylon was so immersed in his thoughts that he ran right into Peter Parker.

"Sorry about that," Graylon apologized as he stepped back. "Oh, Mr. Parker."

Peter smiled and shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Graylon. Looks like J.J.'s not in a particularly good mood."

Graylon rolled his eyes. "Is he ever? He's especially sharp today, so watch out. And my mood isn't that hot either," Graylon motioned at Alicia. She hit him in the arm.

"Ahh, I take it he put you two together on a story. Everyone knows that you're rivals."

"In her eyes," Graylon sourly replied. He glanced down at the stack of papers in Peter's hands. "Hey, are those more pictures of Spiderman?"

Peter grinned. "Yeah. It'll keep J.J. off my back for a few weeks."

Something that Graylon had been thinking about for a while suddenly came to his mind. "Look, I don't mean to be nosy, but it seems like the paper always paints Spiderman in a terrible light. Doesn't the public know that he's one of the good guys?"

Peter shook his head. "It doesn't matter what the papers or reporters say. What matters in the end is what the heroes accomplish. No one is ever going to see their pain, their sacrifices, or their losses. And most won't understand. But here," Peter made a fist and hit his chest softly, "here is where it matters. At the end of the day, despite what the papers may say, if you know in your heart that you've given it your all, you should be able to look in the mirror and be happy with the reflection you see."

Graylon opened his mouth to say something, but Jameson bellowed Peter's name, disrupting the conversation.

"Looks like the boss is calling. I've got to run. Good luck with your story." Peter continued to smile as he picked up his pace and jogged around the corner, leaving Graylon in contemplative thought.

Recently, Graylon pondered over his decision to pursue his career rather than become a superhero. He matured during his time with the other mutant teens at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. Though having his life placed in danger at any given moment wasn't exactly the way he envisioned spending the rest of his life, Graylon was secure in the fact that he was helping people on some level. Whether they were thwarting some bad guy bent on world domination or helping out the local police force in Snow Valley, Graylon used his powers proudly and without hesitation.

But now in his current job, he didn't have that same feeling of accomplishment. Sure he was helping people by getting them the most current, up-to-date information happening in the city, but as a reporter, he also had to sometimes unjustly expose the lives of people just for the newsroom's sake. And that was the part that bothered him.

Besides that, he initially left Xavier's because of all the negative press they were getting. Unlike Peter, Graylon had let what people said affect his decision. And now, truth be told, he regretted it.

"So it looks like you're stuck with me," Alicia smugly commented, breaking through Graylon's thoughts.

He now focused on the present situation. Graylon had been paired with Alicia Livingston, one of the most ambitious (that was a nice way of putting it) reporters that the Daily Bugle had seen in a long time. Though she was attractive, many people were put off by her aggressiveness and brusque nature. Graylon had thought a while ago about asking her out, but somehow, she had seen his flirtatiousness as a way for him to undercut her. So, Alicia had dubbed him as her rival and sought to trample him at every turn. Though her efforts were usually unrewarded, she got what she wanted this time, much to Graylon's disappointment.

"Look, just don't get in the way. Rich doesn't take kindly to nosy, bossy, stuck-up reporters," he shortly replied.

Alicia strode confidently past Graylon. "Well, I'm sure he'll like me just fine. I don't know about you though. So, where are we off to?"

Graylon wondered how he was going to get through the next few days without strangling her. Or throwing himself from a high building.

"We're going to the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning in the morning. I'll pick you up at five."

Graylon and Alicia parted ways. He made a quick call then settled behind the wheel of his car, a grey 2002 Nissan Altima. Graylon finally let his guard down and relaxed a little. He took advantage of this time, because once he set foot on Xavier's estate, he knew that things wouldn't be calm. And he couldn't have possibly known how right he was.


	4. Chapter 4

I.

The Xavier Institute for Higher Learning had finally calmed from the morning hustle and bustle of students grabbing breakfast in the newly built cafeteria and running to class in various locations in the mansion. Paige still wasn't used to the volume of people the mansion now housed. Not only were there lots of X-Men roaming around, but there were at least sixty teenaged students.

Waiting until the morning rush was over, Paige went through the line and grabbed two slices of toast, a grapefruit, and a small cup of apple juice. Glancing around the cafeteria, she decided that she wanted to eat in the dining room instead. The cold, formal cafeteria was almost depressing.

When she rounded the corner, she found what she was used to. An oak table, encircled by eight chairs with a chandelier overhead showering the room in soft white light, sat in the middle of a Persian rug. The French doors leading to the back of the school were open and sunlight poured in, instantly giving Paige a sense of homeliness.

And at one end of the table sat Jubilee and Monet.

Sliding next to Jubilee, Paige smiled. "Good morning, y'all!" She noticed Monet's pensive expression. "What's wrong?"

"Monet was just talking about the Paris faction of the X-Corporation. And how things haven't been exactly kosher for them either."

"So the X-Corporation has been having its problems too?" Paige asked. She took a bite of her toast.

Monet seemed hesitant to answer. But after a moment, she opened up. "It has not transitioned to the smooth operation most envisioned it would."

"That's not surprising considering everything that's happened. I mean, it was Professor Xavier's idea to like start up this whole thing after that chick Cassandra Nova messed everything up. But then he just like up and leaves? Even old Cyke hasn't heard from him," Jubilee commented.

Paige continued, "It doesn't make any sense that the X-Men and everyone else fighting for Xavier's dream are just suddenly left in the dark. It doesn't seem right to me. What is it that we're all fighting for?"

Jubilee shook her head as she grabbed the box of Sugar Bombs and poured another bowl. "Like, maybe that's where the issue is coming from. No one knows anymore. You notice that like even the X-Men that are here are divided and always have major issues. That team concept got thrown out the window."

Monet nodded. "For once, I agree with Lee. It is highly improbable that people who thrive on hate for each other can succeed in extinguishing the detestation normal humans have for us."

Paige sighed. "Everyone's just been so estranged from each other lately. I don't know. Sometimes I feel like it's me. I rushed at the first opportunity I had to join the X-Men when I was staying here after Sean's incident. And Warren. That's a whole other story."

"I presume the relationship did not go over well with Jono," Monet sipped on her Evian water.

"Not too well at all," Paige revealed. She took a smaller bite of her toast.

"Maybe the X-Men just aren't right for us. I mean, we've been together for like years now and we've had to whoop up on some real baddies. All that time we were growing and learning. Maybe we just like outgrew the X-Men," Jubilee shrugged.

"I wouldn't say we outgrew the X-Men. It's just that we have different views. We have to find our own way to help. If that means doing our own thing, and not being a part of the X-Men then so be it," Paige firmly replied.

Paige saw Jubilee and Monet staring over her head.

A stoic Scott Summers stood behind Paige, arms crossed. His brooding demeanor hadn't changed a bit since Jubilee first joined the X-Men. If anything, he got better at it.

"Mr. Summers, I—" Paige felt her cheeks redden.

Scott didn't reply. Instead he circled the table and took a seat next to Jubilee. He quietly reached for the carton of orange juice in the center of the table and a glass. He poured carefully then took a drink. "Don't worry about it," he finally said.

Paige glanced at Jubilee, who characteristically shrugged her shoulders. Monet watched Scott and Paige followed her gaze.

Scott seemed more distracted and aloof than usual as he poured another glass of orange juice. His eyes were hidden behind his ever-present ruby quartz glasses, but Paige could tell he was staring at his glass as if looking for something he had lost.

"You're not eating in the cafeteria either, huh?" Jubilee asked.

Scott shook his head. "I like the dining room better, personally." He took another drink from his glass and sat quietly.

"Is everything okay, Mr. Summers?" Paige hesitantly asked. She knew he wouldn't answer, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

"I was just thinking about what you said," Scott answered. He looked as though he hadn't slept for the past week. His pallid complexion and two-day stubble were highly uncharacteristic of the clean-shaven, pure-bred field leader of the X-Men.

Monet, feeling a lecture coming on, interjected support for her teammate. "Mr. Summers, Paige, though hopelessly naïve and horrendously gullible, makes a sound point. It is plainly evident that the X-Men have evolved from the wholly benevolent school for the gifted to a less-than-welcoming environment that thrives off animosity, bickering, and insolence."

Scott should have been stunned by Monet's assessment, but he knew that her words rang true. It was hard for him to admit that the X-Men weren't the same when it was just the five of them: Scott, Jean, Bobby, Warren, and Hank. But it wasn't the expansion of the roster that changed the X-Men. The world changed them. Anti-mutant sentiments, government projects to destroy mutants, other mutants seeking to dominate normal humans and the world, more reported mutations. That is what changed the X-Men. Then again, so much had happened within their own ranks and now even the X-Men's founder, Professor Charles Xavier, had abandoned them.

"Things change and people change," Scott said a little more forcefully than he meant. He softened his tone as he continued. "Nothing can ever stay the same. Change is a part of life. Things that don't change are dead."

"Well, that's a great way to start the morning," Jubilee sarcastically said.

Scott realized that he sounded like a bitter and harsh old man. No, not just like any old man, like Wolverine. But worse.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. But think about it. None of you are the same from when you first joined the school. You've changed, grown into adults with an outlook of your own. That's what this school is for. It wasn't the Professor's intention to develop robots that all thought and acted alike. He wanted to teach responsibility, not only to the world, but to yourself. Some of us got that, and some of us didn't."

Paige frowned, "I feel left out, Mr. Summers. I want to make a difference."

"Making a difference isn't running across the world at any given time to battle the bad guys, Paige. It's about changing the world one step at a time. If you can step outside and change just one person's negative opinion on mutants, then you've made a difference. Those of us that do fly halfway around the world, that's just what we do. Some of us have lost sight of what it is we're fighting for too."

With that Scott rose and walked away from the table, leaving the three girls in contemplative silence. It was soon broken by Bobby Drake storming from around the corner.

"Geez, does everyone have their panties in a wad this morning?" Jubilee asked, noticing Bobby glaring at her.

"Emma, ordered me to shoo away some reporter that's at the front gate. I don't know who she thinks she is, but she's getting on my nerves."

Monet cleared her throat. "Your immature resentment with Emma will undoubtedly emerge when dealing with the reporters frequenting the estate. So I benevolently propose that you permit us level-headed patrons of this institution to accompany you."

Bobby stood still, his agitation giving way to confusion.

"What Monet is trying to so eloquently say is that we're going with you, Bobby," Paige chuckled.

"Why didn't you say that in the first place? I swear," the rest of his statement was a series of grumbles and grunts as Bobby stormed out the front door. Monet smiled smugly as she followed Jubilee and Paige to meet with the reporters that they had to kick out. But as they neared the gate, they knew that they weren't going to immediately kick at least one of the reporters off the ground. They immediately recognized their old teammate, Graylon Walsh.

Jubilee thought that he must have been hidden behind the girl that accompanied him, which is why Emma didn't immediately recognize him through the security camera. At least, that's what she hoped.

"Long time no see," Graylon grinned. He had that same conniving grin, shaggy blond hair, and boyish good-looks. He was dressed in jeans, Sketcher low cut boots, and a ribbed t-shirt. He looked the same as when he left. Except now, he had a cunning partner with him. Several duffel bags and suitcases were piled around him.

"Are you trying to enroll back in the school?" Paige asked, motioning to the bags around his feet. It wouldn't have been a surprised that Graylon would have packed his entire life away for an overnight trip.

"I wish," Graylon smiled. "Actually," Graylon chanced a glance at Bobby, whose scowl had reduced to a stern glare. "I came to ask a favor. And I need your help."  
"Emma said that she doesn't want you on these grounds," Bobby cut in loudly, hoping the girls would catch what he was saying.

"Ms. Frost is here too? Maybe she doesn't realize it's me," Graylon said.

Bobby crossed his arms. "No, she saw you from the computer room. She still doesn't want any reporters on these premises. And you fall into that category."

Jubilee rolled her eyes. "Put a sock in it, Drake. Really, this is Graylon. It's my job to make fun of him and dislike him. None of you oh-so-important X-Men get that right. So I'm letting him in."

Jubilee pressed a button and the iron gate swung inward. Paige ran out and hugged Graylon, while Jubilee gave him a high-five. Monet simply nodded cordially, which was enough for Graylon to know she was glad to see him.

"I'm Alicia Livingston," Alicia stuck her hand out to shake Jubilee's hand. Jubilee saw Graylon's expression and knew Graylon hadn't brought her along by choice. She ignored the gesture.

Paige stepped past Jubilee and gave her a disapproving glance then took Alicia's hand firmly, greeting her with a warm smile. "I'm Paige Guthrie. This is Jubilation Lee, and Monet St. Croix. And that's Bobby Drake."

"So what is it you came here for?" Bobby sharply inquired.

"Dude, what is your deal? You're about as bad as Frosty with this whole attitude thing," Jubilee shot.

Bobby frowned. "Things were much simpler when it was just Jean, Scott, Warren, Hank, and me. Now, it's like anyone can slap and X on their clothes and call themselves an X-Man."

"Is that what the 'tude is for? Because we're X-Men?"

Bobby crossed his arms and peered condescendingly at the teens. "Last I checked, you were on the inactive roster," he directed at Paige and Jubilee. "And you're not allowed on the premises," Bobby shot at Graylon.

"I didn't come here to ask _your_ permission, Drake," Graylon boldly replied. "Last time I checked, you were a second-string X-Man. You're one of the original X-Men, yet you still hold the crown for being the most immature. So unless you plan on using force to stop me, I'm going into the mansion to talk to a _real_ X-Man."

Bobby smiled evilly. His skin took on a hard shine then turned to a frigid white. "I'll be more than happy to use force on you. Maybe you'll learn to respect someone that's older and better than you."

"Bobby, please. What's wrong with you?" Paige asked. She replayed through the situation and failed to pinpoint the exact moment the situation had escalated to this. Regardless, they needed to calm it down before someone got hurt.

"Ms. Frost sent us out to help you, Mr. Drake," Julian Keller announced from the sky. He floated above the scene while his teammates ran behind Bobby. The brash-looking leader of the Hellions, Julian Keller, gazed over the teens with disdain and an air of superiority. "It seems that these kids may be a bit much for you to handle, since you don't have a good grasp of your own powers."

Though Bobby was now solid ice, he felt his face grow hot. "I don't need help from Emma's little puppet X-Squad," Bobby bitterly shot.

"Hey, what's going on?" Eric Maldonado jogged up followed by Vincent Raney and Jason Kyle. "I thought you were watching our bags, not making new friends."

"You guys are here too?" Paige said. She was glad to see Jason, Eric, and Vincent, and at the same time, she noticed that the numbers between the opposing sides had suddenly evened out. Somehow, Paige knew that a fight was inevitable, no matter how much she wanted the situation to diffuse.

"Seems my charm has worked its magic yet again," Graylon replied to Eric. His fist rose in front of his face and sparked with blue energy. Graylon looked at Bobby and said, "I really don't want to fight you, but if you need a workout, we'll be the ones to give it to you."

"We haven't been here five minutes, Graylon, and you're getting us into fights," Jason sighed, running his hand through his brown hair.

"Ms. Frost couldn't have authorized you to use force," Paige stepped forward and held out her hand to stop the Hellions' advance. She wouldn't let herself believe that Emma, their old teacher and someone that they trusted, was willing to treat them like common intruders.

Paige regarded the Hellions with stark disapproval. Not only did they take the name of Emma's old students, but they had the reputation of being impetuous and troublesome. They were the rebels of the campus, setting out to deliberately go against rules and regulations. Of course, they seemed to only be encouraged by Emma. Paige remembered when Emma was their headmistress. She never would have allowed them to act that way. But now, Paige's entire image of Emma had been shaken, and she really couldn't be sure of anything Emma would now allow or disallow.

Julian smirked haughtily, "Don't worry, country girl. Emma told us to keep it at fifty percent unless you and your ex-superhero team here want to give up."

"Looks like we have to teach these X-wannabes what's up," Jubilee said. She gave Bobby a glance as well to include him in the category of an X-wannabe.

Bobby retaliated with creating a huge ice boulder in the sky. It pummeled to the ground, covering the teens in its cool shadow.

Monet launched herself into the sky and stuck the boulder, sending chunks of ice raining downward. Vincent created a ceiling of fire, totally melting the ice and turning the resulting water into steam, while Eric created a wind current that carried the steam into the forest.

Julian clapped from his position in the air. "I know a circus that would love to have that act in between the clown and trapeze shows. Now, let's show them what we can do." Julian flew towards Monet who simply smiled as he advanced on her. "I'm going to—" Julian's words died off and he fell to the ground, courtesy of a psychic attack from Monet.

A cloud of dust swirled around Monet, twirling her about, but Monet was saved by a whipping tornado that carried the dust to the opposite ends of the grounds. Eric gave Monet a nod as he flew after Sooraya, codenamed dust.

Santo Vaccarro aimed both his fists at Jason and fired the large size hands directly toward Jason's body. Moving deftly, Jason summoned a wall of earth, shielding him from the hands. But the projectiles were more powerful than Jason thought and they blew through the wall, grazing him on the arm.

Santo, pleased with himself, ran at Jason, both to intimidate him and to retrieve his hands. Jubilee leaped in front of him and a barrage of fireworks flashed in front of his eyes, blinding him momentarily. Santo screamed, drawing the attention of Cessily and Kevin.

Kevin ran to Santo's aid but was cut short by a high-heeled boot hitting him in the face. He staggered backwards and saw that the other girl with Graylon, Alicia Livingston, had struck him. "You'll regret that," Kevin said. He charged her and swung at her. Much more skilled than Kevin realized, she effortlessly dodged the punch, and delivered a spin kick to Kevin's stomach then a stepping high side kick to his face.

Cessily arrived on the scene only to see Kevin topple to the ground, stunned. She morphed her arm into a sharp sword. "Let's see how you deal with this," she said to Alicia. She charged her and swung downward, but instead of hitting flesh, she hit hard metal. Paige now stood between Cessily and Alicia. She punched at Cessily, but her fluid-like body simply absorbed the punch.

Cessily entangled herself around Paige and Alicia, trapping them within a metal prison.

"Paige, rubber!" Graylon said as he dashed at them. "Monet, grab Alicia!"

Monet immediately understood and dove toward Alicia at an amazing speed. Appearing only as a blur, Monet swooped down and snatched Alicia from Cessily's clutches. A split-second later, Paige ripped her outer layer of metal off to reveal a rubbery form underneath. Right after that, Graylon aimed and lashed out with his bioelectric shock. Cessily howled with pain as the attack sent sharp shivers throughout her body. She crumbled to the ground, her body returning to its natural form.

"Cessily!" Julian called. He recovered quickly from Monet's attack and took to the sky. Before Graylon and Paige could rejoice, Julian grabbed them with his telekinesis and threw them across the lawn. "I'll make sure I hurt you," Julian seethed.

Monet was still high in the air, cradling Alicia. "I'm going back down. Can you manage?"

"Throw me towards Eric," Alicia said. Monet didn't question her request. Instead she dropped Alicia slightly so she could grab her hands. Once Alicia gave the nod she was ready, Monet flung her in Eric's direction. Alicia gracefully flipped through the air and called out to Eric at the same time.

"Eric, I need an updraft!"

Eric spun around and without hesitation created a powerful updraft, softening Alicia's fall. She landed gracefully on the ground, ready to see who else needed help. Eric had easily taken care of Sooraya. Vincent and Bobby were at a stalemate throwing various forms of fire and ice at one another. Monet struck Julian down with a punch, but he recovered swiftly thanks to a telekinetic shield. Rockslide was trapped in a hardened earth prison courtesy of Jason and a well-timed assist from Vincent. Jubilee was in hand-to-hand combat with Brian Cruz, flipping gracefully around the Hellion. Graylon faced off against Kevin, his entire body flashing blue. Before Alicia could decide who she would help, a stern, booming voice stopped everyone cold.

"What the hell is going on out here?" Scott Summers looked from individual to individual, his optic blasts shining brightly behind his ruby quartz glasses. "The next person that makes an aggressive move will be waking up in the med bay, understood? All of you, stand down now. Bobby, I want to see you in my office. Hellions, I want to see you in the war room after you take Kincaid to the med center. And the rest of you—"

"Generation X," Jubilee interjected.

"Generation X, wait outside my office. When I'm done with Bobby, you're next."


	5. Chapter 5

I.

"What the hell was going on out there?" Scott Summers slammed his hands on the desk and glared at the seven teens now standing in front of him. He looked from face to face and took a deep, impatient breath, his question answered with silence. "Someone needs to tell me something within in the next thirty seconds."

"Why don't you ask Frosty?" Jubilee motioned to Emma who sat by the window with a smug expression on her face. Jubilee had never wanted to punch someone as bad as she did now.

Graylon stepped forward and Alicia followed suit. "Mr. Summers, this is probably partially my fault. I came here because I needed help. I suspect that something is happening to one of our old friends in England. There have been a series of events which led us to believe that he and his family could be in some kind of danger. We came to ask for a lift to England on the Blackbird."

He wasn't sure how revealing his entire plan to Scott would abate his anger, but Graylon hoped that Scott would see past the skirmish on the front lawn and give them the benefit of the doubt, which meant that they would get the ride to England on the Blackbird. But the unflinching frown told Graylon that his explanation didn't win Scott over at all.

"We'll talk about your situation later. As for you all fighting the Hellions, just what were you thinking?"

Paige answered through tight lips. "Mr. Summers, I'm not sure if you're fully aware of the situation, but Ms. Frost ordered those Hellion brats to use force to remove Graylon and Alicia off the grounds. When have the X-Men ever used force on civilians? Besides that, it seems they were quite ready to teach us a lesson. We aren't supposed to be fighting each other. I thought that was saved for the hundreds of bad guys that try to take over the world every other day. And don't even get me started on Bobby's attitude. I don't know what's going on around here, but this isn't the X-Men I ever wanted to be a part of."

Paige's words had rushed out so quickly, she had to stop for a breath. She breathed deeply, but the flames of anger kept her from relaxing. She looked back and forth from Scott to Emma, hoping that one of them would say something, anything to dispel her opinion of the situation.

Scott finally moved. He sat down at the chair behind the desk and folded his arms. Though Paige initially thought he was going to reprimand them more, she soon realized that he was thinking about the situation. She remembered their conversation from earlier that morning and hoped that Scott would be sensible.

"Well, I think that—" Emma began, but Scott sat forward on his elbows and spoke.

"We're not here to use force against civilians. And we're definitely not here to fight each other. I'm familiar with the Hellions, and I know they can be rash. I think Logan and Kurt are nearly done servicing the Blackbird. Graylon, you and your posse can go down as see if they can give you a lift." He looked at Jubilee and Paige. "Since you two are inactive right now and if things are as dangerous as he thinks, you two should go with him. Monet, it's up to you whether you go or not. I know you came here for a bit of a break, but they may need your help."

Monet nodded.

_Scott, I can't believe you're letting them go. They violated several rules ad their unruly behavior injured one of my students,_ Emma telepathically said to Scott. _Plus, I can't believe you're going to allow them to use the Blackbird._

_If your students hadn't attacked them and if Bobby had acted a bit more maturely, I'm sure the situation wouldn't have taken the turn it did. We'll talk about the rest later._

Monet pretended that she hadn't overheard the conversation, but a sharp look from Emma told Monet that she knew.

Before Emma could protest further, Scott dismissed them. They hurried out of the office and into the hallway, where they grabbed their respective bags. When Scott was sure they were out of earshot, he turned to Emma.

"What were your students trying to prove out there?"

Emma sat back casually, which only agitated Scott more. "My students were simply protecting this school. We've had enough public humiliation at the hands of the press. Don't you think it's about time we stopped opening our doors to any and every person that wants to come here."

"They're not just anyone. They're students. And they are always welcome in this mansion. That was the Professor's original intention for this school, and I plan on keeping it that way. Besides, they were _your_ old students."

Emma frowned. "I have a lot more people to worry about, not just some ex-students looking for adventure. Things are dangerous out there. If being cold toward them will get them out of the playing hero mindset, then that's what I'm going to do. I don't want any of my students, new or old to get hurt the way my first students did. To everyone, including you, I probably look like a bitch. Well, that's just the way I am."

With that, Emma stood and strode out of the office, slamming the door behind her. Scott ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. What had happened to them? Had they really lost sight of Professor Xavier's original dream?

Scott pondered it only for a few minutes before a headache crept in. Despite the throbbing behind his eyes, a clear thought broke through the pain. As much as he wanted things to be simple and to go back to the way they were, they never would.

II.

The ex-members of Generation X headed down the hallway, bags in hand, heading towards the express elevator that would take them straight to the Blackbird hangar.

"I don't think I've sever seen him so angry," Jubilee mentioned as they passed several other students in the hallway. They had been silent up to this point, still absorbing and mulling over their run-in with the Hellions and Bobby Drake. Now, Jubilee reflected on Scott's reaction and was amazed that he almost seemed to contradict Emma's attitude about them.

"Sorry about earlier," Graylon apologized. "I don't know why I shot off at Mr. Drake."

Paige replied, "He was upset before he even came outside. You didn't do anything wrong."

"For a change," Jubilee added.

"Being vexed seems to be the perpetual status of the personnel here," Monet commented.

Paige wanted to disagree. She wished that she could argue back and say that Bobby was just having a bad day. If someone had suggested to her before that one of the steadfast members of the X-Men would simply have a bad attitude and attack an ex-student and civilian reporter, Paige would have laughed it off. But now, she didn't know what the X-Men were capable of. And that didn't sit well with her at all.

"It looks like a lot has changed since we were here last," Eric mentioned. "Who were those other kids that attacked us?"

Jubilee made a gagging sound then explained. "Those pukes are like Frosty's pet squad, the Hellions. They're bad news from what I hear, and I'm not surprised she's taken a special interest in them. Her other pet students, the Stepford Cuckoos, totally blew her off and wanted nothing else to do with her."

They went to the same elevator from earlier, but instead of pushing a button, Jubilee input the code that would take them to the hangar.

"Ms. Frost seems to have changed quite a bit too," Jason mentioned.

"That's like a whole other story," Jubilee rolled her eyes.

The seven teens, nearly stuffed into the elevator, feel into a contemplative silence. The situation with Bobby and Emma's reprimand finally seemed to sink in as they arrived at the bottom floor. Each one of them in their own way realized that the X-Men were vastly different from the X-Men they had battled alongside only months ago.

The doors to the elevator slid open with a muffled hiss and the teens found themselves inside a large hangar. Though they had seen it several times before, the Blackbird's magnificence still impressed each of them.

"Stop gawking and move it, kids," Logan stepped from the recesses of the hangar, puffing on a cigar. A could of smoke rose in the air, masking his face until he stepped into the light with a smirk on his face.

"The infamous Wolverine," Alicia smiled. She had only seen articles and news reports on the X-Men and their members. But now, she finally saw the White Queen and Cyclops face-to-face. And, no other reporter could say that they fought against Iceman and the new Hellions. This day was just getting better and better.

"Mr. Summers said you'd give us a lift to England. Easton to be exact," Graylon said.

Logan nodded. "Kurt's in the pilot seat already. Ol' one-eye called us on the intercom. We'll toss your bags in the back." Logan turned and led them into the Blackbird, every bit as magnificent on the inside as on the outside.

Everyone put their bags into a compartment in the back and buckled themselves in after introductions to Kurt.

The plane roared to life as the basketball split in two. Rising slowly out of the hangar, the cockpit and coach area were filled with bright sunlight. Then with a burst of force, they were on their way to England.

III.

After dinner, Michael found himself in the rear grounds of the Cale Estate. Freshly mowed grass, well-kept shrubbery, and unique flowers extended in every direction, making Michael wonder just how much land the Cales owned. But the thought was pushed to the back of his mind as he focused on his attacker.

"So Kai, what exactly is your power?" Michael circled Kai, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. Though he protested having sparring practice, Kai insisted since her usual sparring partner, Sean Rogers, wasn't home yet. Michael agreed to be nice, but then realized that he could be in over his head. Tasha watched from a safe distance near the castle, already cheering and encouraging them to work hard.

Kai replied, "Well, I'm somewhat of a psi too. I can break down mental blocks and inhibitions and bring out the real desires a person wants. I can also block certain areas of the brain, like fear, hatred, pain and the more common ones, like vision, memory, and language. In addition, I can heighten the sensory areas of your brain, making a mere cut feel like an amputation without the anesthesia."

"Interesting," Michael genuinely commented. She had psychic powers too, but hers had a different focus than his and Tasha's. Michael was sure that both he and Tasha could do the things that Kai could do, but she could naturally pinpoint specific brain functions and control them but not focus on the basic elements of her psychic power, such as mind reading and telepathic communication.

"Lucky for me, we're not using powers, right?"

Kai smiled mischievously. "Who ever said that?"

Michael smiled in return. There was something about Kai that ignited his curiosity. She was a pretty girl with her long jet black hair and sharp Asian features. But her confidence and almost flirtatious way of talking made her stand out from anyone Michael knew up to this point.

Michael shrugged. "Your choice then. But your psi attacks won't work on me."

Kai raised her left eyebrow a fraction of an inch. "Who said anything about using it on you? I can break down my own mental barriers to fight at peak condition every time."

Using her abilities on herself? That was pretty ingenious, but before Michael could marvel any more, Kai charged Michael. He stepped back defensively and blocked the beautiful high roundhouse aimed at his head. Kai continued with a barrage of kicks, both mid-level and high, never losing her grace or focus.

Michael used his powers as well to make split second predictions of her next move. He blocked or dodged each kick, even surprising himself at his own fighting prowess. He realized that it had been quite some time since he had found himself in such a tense battle. But he wasn't as rusty as he thought he would be. In fact, maybe he was better than he thought. Or maybe it was the effect of the residual Phoenix tattooed on his soul.

Despite being proud of his own performance in this fight, he was even more impressed with Kai. Her speed and flexibility never waned even for a moment as she advanced with attack after attack. In a real battle, Michael knew she would be a force to be reckoned with.

"Why can't I hit you?" Kai yelled through gritted teeth as Michael blocked a backhand.

"I can predict your every move," Michael smiled, his normally brown eyes now enveloped with a burning blue hue. He could hear Tasha in the background still cheering and gasping with amazement as the two fought.

Kai smiled seductively, "I like an unfair fight."

Michael immediately felt another presence behind him. Someone was going to attack.

He immediately focused and took flight as whips cracked in the spot he was standing. Michael inverted and looked down on his new whip-wielding attacker. The whips weren't whips at all, but tightly wound locks of hair which retracted back to their owner, Godiva Cale.

Michael remembered that Godiva had the unique ability to control her hair. She could lengthen or shorten it at will and psionically control every strand. She stepped behind Kai and placed an arm intimately across Kai's chest. Her hair caressed Kai's face and body.

"Two against one, huh?"

Godiva gave a half-smile, "Now, now. My lover and I operate as one. If you attack her, you attack me as well."

Michael raised an eyebrow. Lover? That's right...he remembered that Kai and Godiva were...intimate partners. Rich had mentioned briefly, but Michael hadn't even thought about it until now. This was the first time that he had heard Godiva and Kai speak of it themselves. Their relationship wasn't a secret, but they didn't flaunt it in front of everyone, which helped people to be much more comfortable with the situation. However, the public was not aware of their relationship. To them, Kai was simply a close friend of the family and trusted confidant to the Cales.

"Well, I think I can handle the both of you. Are you sure that you can handle me?"

Kai raised an eyebrow. "Godiva, I think I like this one. We'll have to tell Rich to bring more of his friends by."

"I agree," she replied.

_Rich!_

The psychic cry startled the trio and they immediately turned to the house. Tasha ran Rich's side as he half-tumbled out of the back door. She caught him before Rich completely collapsed, but she didn't have a steady hold. She thought they both would fall on the ground, but a soft telekinetic force kept them standing.

Godiva and Kai dashed toward them and helped Rich to a patio chair, where he nearly collapsed.

"He's so weak and pale. Tasha, grab some water and bread from inside," Godiva directed. "Kai, can you call the doctor—"

"No!' Rich croaked out. "I'm not sick. There's some disturbance, evil energy. It's here in Easton."

Godiva took the water from Tasha and tilted Rich's head back, carefully giving him only a few sips. "Just calm down, Rich. You're not making any sense. You haven't eaten in several days."

Rich reluctantly drank some of the water then refused to drink any more. "Listen to me, I'm not crazy. There's something wrong. I don't know how to describe it, but I can feel something evil that just appeared."

"When?" Yvette asked from the doorway. Godiva was surprised that Yvette was so calm and seemed to know exactly what Rich was hinting at.

"Last night."

Yvette frowned.

"What's wrong?" Michael asked.

"There are news reports of the sighting of a strange armored knight that took out several police officers last night. They say that he appeared nearly the same time that an unidentified man apparently fell from the sky. They tried to track the knight, but it suddenly disappeared. I also just got off the phone with Detective Harris and he told me what's going on. But I would rather hear it from you, Rich."

Rich averted his eyes, something that he did when he was trying to be stubborn. "It's none of anyone's concern. I can work though it myself."

"You're not doing a good job of it," Tasha shot. "Rich, we're worried about you and we want to help. But we can't if you won't let us."

"Where is the man that fell from the sky?" Rich abruptly changed the subject.

Yvette shook her head. "Don't worry about it, because you're not going anywhere. Michael and I are accompanying Harris to the hospital. You're going to stay here and explain to your sister, your cousin, and our closest friend why you've shut yourself off from the world. Maybe they'll be less angry with you than I am."

Michael looked from Yvette to Rich and wondered exactly what was going on. As tempted as he was to simply read their minds, he learned that dancing through people's thoughts without their permission was unethical and just plain rude. He figured that Yvette would tell him later on anyways since she volunteered him to go with her to the hospital.

Yvette broke the eye contact with Rich, turned, and retreated back into the castle. Michael gave everyone a puzzled look and a shrug then followed her. Before the night was out, both Michael and Yvette would come face to face with the horror Rich only hinted at.

IV.

"You shouldn't be so angry with him," Grimore stepped in front of Yvette and Michael as they silently strode down the hallway toward the front door of the castle. Michael had been startled by the cat's sudden appearance since he was immune from psychic detection.

He hadn't changed a bit since the last time Michael saw him. Yellow-orange coat, dark green eyes, and a fluffy tail. Though he could have been anyone's cute little cat, he was much more than a domesticated pet.

As Michael later found out, Grimore was the feline form of a family that served alongside the Cale family as protectors of the Earth. They assisted the Cales and served as bodyguards to every generation. Michael didn't know the details, but somehow, he was cursed to a feline form. Though it limited some of his abilities, Grimore gained several others. One of them presumably being immortality or a long life span at least. This same cat had been with the family for several generations.

"Maybe I should be angry with you because I'm sure that you know exactly what's going on," Yvette shot. "What makes you think that I wasn't worried about Rich? That I didn't deserve to know so I could help him? He's helped me through so much, and this is the first time that I could've have been there for him, yet I couldn't because he was too proud to let me in and you were being too loyal to tell me."

Grimore frowned. "Yvette, you are well aware that I cannot directly relay the visions I'm privy to. Bound by the Watcher, I can only guide Rich and all of you. You know why Rich didn't share his situation with you. He didn't want you to worry."

"It's much too late for that, isn't it?"Yvette marched past Grimore without a second glance.

Michael mouthed to Grimore, "What's going on?"

Grimore lowered his voice. "A vast evil has entered this world and is after the Cales."

"But that would mean it's after Rich and Godiva, right?"

"No, there is another. Go to the hospital with Yvette. A piece of the puzzle will be revealed there. Plus, your friend will need your help. Be ready."

Grimore turned and trotted down the hallway.

"Grimore, wait? What do you mean, my friend? What's going on?" The feline didn't respond. Grimore disappeared around a corner without a second glance.

Michael sighed. That was the problem with Grimore's predictions. Maybe it was some curse or maybe he just liked being mysterious, but Grimore never just came out and said what was to come. Instead, it was veiled behind warnings and elusive statements. Michael could understand Yvette's frustration with Grimore. He would give just enough information to make you ask a million questions then leave you high and dry.

Michael sighed again then jogged to catch up to Yvette. "I can see why you're so aggravated with Grimore. I don't want him not to tell us what's going on, but then again, I feel more confused now than I did before."

Yvette sighed, her anger giving way to fatigue. "I've just been so worried about Rich. I just wish I would've known what he was going through."

"Yvette, what's going on?"

Yvette stopped walking and turned to Michael, her expression pensive. "You know that when Rich came to the school, his parents had passed away."

"Yeah, it was several years before he came to the school. What does that have to do with now?"

"Rich's parents didn't just pass away. They were murdered right here in this castle. And Rich, he saw his parents after they had been killed. Michael, he saw their bodies. It must have been horrible. Anyways, when Harris called me a few minutes ago, he alerted me to the appearance of the knight and the strange man."

Michael followed the story up to the point where Yvette interjected in the knight and man. "I don't understand how the two relate."

"Harris has received reports that the man that appeared has been identified as Thomas Cale."

"Another Cale?" Michael instantly remembered Grimore's vague prediction.

"Thomas Cale is Rich's grandfather, but he disappeared thirty years ago. And in only two days, the ten-year anniversary of his parents' death will pass."

Everything suddenly became clear for Michael. Now, he understood why Rich had been acting so strangely. But if the knight and his grandfather had appeared suddenly, there was something much bigger going on than they realized.

"That's what's been bothering Rich," Michael said to Yvette. "Remembering that horrible day of his parents' death. I'm no warlock by any means, but usually the tenth and hundredth anniversary of events are important in rituals and whatnot."

"It may just be coincidence, but Harris isn't so sure. And neither am I."

Michael nodded in agreement. "I think we need to get to the hospital fast. Grimore said something about the knight being after another Cale. If that man is actually his long-lost grandfather then that knight may be after him. And I have the feeling that something may have already happened there."

"Let's hope not. Harris should be here in a few minutes. The hospital is about forty-five minutes from here."

As if on cue, Detective Randall Harris strode into foyer area followed closely by Sean Rogers. Yvette quickly introduced the two of them to Michael.

Reflexively, Michael glazed over both their minds to ensure that there wasn't something amiss. The scan gave him plenty of insight into the two gentlemen standing in front of them.

Sean Rogers was deaf and had been so since as early as he could remember. Sean was also mute. Both of these ailments were a result of a severe sickness he had when he was younger. Even though he could not hear, he had trained himself to be able to feel the different vibrations created by sound. It was so keen that he could understand and put together the sounds and understand words and conversations. In addition, his sense of sight, touch, and taste were well above the average person and he found that he could do something no one else could.

Sean could absorb the sound around him to create a void of silence. That sound could be re-amplified through him and projected as pure energy.

As he grew older, school became harder, but he finished. He found that the best way to make a living was to be a private investigator. He used his power to effectively sneak into buildings and follow people, making him very successful.

His ability, coupled with his martial arts training, and a handy weapon in the form of a chain made him a formidable foe against anyone.

As for Randall Harris, he was a single thirty-five year old working with the Easton Police Department. He had worked with the department about fifteen years now and was their lead detective. Well known for his tenacity, hard-nosed attitude, and his excessive force tactics, Harris had defined himself as an asset to the success of the police force. Opting to remain a detective, Harris continued to crack the hardest cases that other officers couldn't figure out.

But Harris had a well guarded secret. He was a mutant. Michael couldn't fully define his mutant ability though. It seemed to be some kind of adaptive type of mutation, which meant that he could develop abilities suited to whatever situation he ran into. But Harris had some constant abilities, such as enhanced agility, strength, dexterity, vitality, endurance, and speed. Such abilities like night vision, claws, wings, and other monstrous mutations were variable and could be summoned at any time. Michael wasn't really sure what kind of a mutant he was, but it was evident that Harris was dangerous.

Both Harris and Sean worked closely with Rich and his family. Michael was impressed with the fact that Rich had surrounded himself with some powerful friends, who not only wielded dangerous mutant powers but had a good head on their shoulders. But Michael wouldn't have expected any less.

Detective Randall Harris gave Michael a curt nod then turned to Yvette. "Are you ready to go?"

Yvette nodded. "This is Michael McNeal. He attended Xavier's too. He's coming with us to the hospital."

Harris's natural frown deepened. "Does he know what's going on?"

Michael waved his hands and scowled. "Hey, I'm right here. And yes, I'm fully aware of what's going on."

Harris sized Michael up then, obviously not impressed, said, "We don't need anyone getting in the way."

Michael met Harris with a challenging glare. Who the hell did he think he was? Of course, it was that hard-nosed cop attitude coming out. Even though Michael knew exactly what it was, he still didn't like it. But before Michael could ask him, Yvette stepped in.

"Harris, relax. Michael's more than capable of handling himself. And he's a nice guy."

Despite Yvette's attempt to liven the situation, Michael frowned. He wished that Yvette would just give him five minutes to give Harris a piece of his mind. Michael knew that before the day was over, he and Harris would have words. Harsh words.

Harris impatiently glanced at his watch and shrugged. "Fine. Let's go. I'm driving." Harris spun on his heel and strode back toward the front door. Sean fell in behind him and Yvette and Michael slowly followed.

Yvette leaned in to Michael and whispered, "Harris is a really good guy. He's just a little rough around the edges."

"Yeah, just like a certain royal pain in the ass I know," Michael replied, referring to Rich.

Yvette was caught off guard and let out a snicker. "Now, now. He's a sweet royal pain that I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Michael smiled. Despite his comment, he had a lot of respect for Rich. Not only because he was royalty in England, but he had so much responsibility placed on his shoulders at an early age. Yet, he handled all of it with grace and maturity. Michael wondered if he would've been able to do the same thing.

Once outside, Michael noticed the blue sky, bowing gracefully to a dusky evening. They quickly piled in the car and Harris sped from the castle.

Though on the surface, all of them expected everything to be fine, underneath it all, everyone's nerves were on edge, wondering just what they were going to find when they got to the hospital.

Notes:

Angel: Thanks for the review. Man, this story is getting no love from the masses. As you see, Jubilee, Monet, and Paige are off to England. And believe me, they will get their fair share of action!

Richard B. Sampson Jr.: Hey, it's been a while since you reviewed! And it's been a while since I posted. Anyways, we talked about some changes a while ago, and I think I came to a good compromise (i.e. Godiva and Kai's relationship and Michael's reaction and some of the other smaller details). You'll have to let me know what you think of the chapter.


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